


Guests at the Table

by vanillafluffy



Category: Criminal Minds, The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Throw canon in a blender and hit puree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of "The Private Lives of Dr. Spencer Reid and Jupiter Jones" 'verse. Jupiter and Spence are still in a long-distance relationship, with viists as often as they can manage. This is their first Thanksgiving together. Ensemble with BAU members.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guests at the Table

"Spence, will you relax? I've got it all handled."

"What if nobody comes?"

"Just because Hotch canceled doesn't mean everybody else will." Jupe is basting the enormous turkey he's dubbed "birdzilla" as his partner paces at the far end of the kitchen. "I just hope Jack feels better. Maybe we can drop off a CARE package for them tomorrow."

"God, I hope everyone else shows up. Or we'll be living on turkey til New Years. It'll be worse than the hams."

"It took me six months to work my way through all three of them," Jupe says, nodding at the memory of the hams he'd received as food gifts after his aunt's death. "But don't worry. We can always send leftovers home with our guests."

Spence sighs. When Jupiter had first proposed spending a couple months in DC, he'd been pleased. When Jupe had said that one of this things he wanted to do was "make-over" the townhouse, he'd gone along with it. When Jupe started inviting Spence's teammates from the BAU for Thanksgiving dinner, it had turned into much more of a production than he'd imagined.

Spence's idea of cooking involves peeling back the corner of the tray and/or poking film with a fork and pushing buttons. In the whole time he's lived here, which has been several years now, he's used the oven exactly twice. He's never had all of the stove's burners on at once.

Jupe slides the vast turkey back into the oven and shuts the door. "Looking good. It'll be ready around four, so we'll have time to socialize. They should start showing up around two, except Garcia---" The doorbell rings. It's seven minutes til two. "That'll be her now."

"How--? Never mind." Spence exits the kitchen and hurries down the hall. Jupiter has curtained off the dining room from the living room, because he wants to "unveil" dinner, but this way is just as fast.

He has no doubt that Garcia is early. When it comes to BAU gatherings, she always seems to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, although that might be because most of the time, it's JJ hostessing the get-togethers and the two hang out together anyway.

"Hello, Penelope," he greets her. "Glad you could make it."

"I know I'm a little early. My bad! But there was no traffic, so I made better time than I expected, and I wasn't going to sit out in the car longer than I had to, because it's cold out there. I brought cupcakes!" She says it all in one long rush, and holds up the bakery box like a Mayan high priestess offering up a still-beating heart. "They're pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting."

"Terrific, thanks." He accepts the box. "Would you like to hang up your coat? There are hooks right over there..."

Under the pink trenchcoat Garcia sheds, she's wearing a bright orange dress swagged with tiers of pink beads. She glances around the entryway, the pendant light overhead making the rhinestones on her eyeglass frames twinkle. "Should I take my shoes off?"

"Only if you want to." Spence still feels a lingering dread; okay, so they have at least one guest, but this is actually the first time anyone on the team has seen where he lives. 

Garcia parks her leopard mules beneath the wall-mounted coat rack. He takes a deep breath, and guides her into the living room.

"Not bad!" she says approvingly, and he exhales. 

It's all Jupe's work; he'd driven to DC with a van full of furniture and was less than two hours out when the team had been summoned to a case in Sioux Falls. Six days later, Spence came home to a fait accompli; the contrast between his revamped residence and the former white walls and nearly empty rooms had been jarring, but now he's adjusted to it. 

Garcia is smiling as she studies the room. So far, so good.

"It's warm. Not the 'oh my gosh it's hot in here' warm, cozy warm."

He associates the with 'cozy' with the stereotypical grandma's house, full of over-stuffed furniture and floral drapes and that's not this space at all. Maybe she means comfortable? Because it is that, he thinks. More than it ever was before.

"can I get you something to drink?" he offers.

"Diet coke?" 

"Sure. Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back." 

He speeds back down the hall, where Jupe is draining a restaurant-size pot of potatoes. "She says it's cozy," he reports, "and she brought cupcakes."

"Over there," Jupe jerks his head toward the miniscule kitchen table, which already holds an apple tart and a dish of cranberry relish.

He sets the box on the table and edges past Jupe to check the fridge. "No sodas?" he asks, scanning the space. There's the big glass bowl of pumpkin-gingerbread trifle, a nearly-depleted gallon of milk, a full gallon of milk, assorted condiments, but no carbonated beverages.

"Basement fridge."

"I keep forgetting I have a basement fridge," he mutters, and edges back toward the hallway and the cellar door.

It used to be that the basement was where he went to do laundry when he needed to---and didn't linger, because the washer and dryer were the only things down there. Now, half the space is Jupe's workshop, while the other end has a seating area and a TV, and boasts a fridge stocked with beer and soda.

When he gets back upstairs, it's to find Dave Rossi and Emily Prentiss occupying the living room. Jupe, still in his white apron, holds up more gifts. "Dave brought us a great burgundy."

"I think it should complement the turkey," Rossi says.

"And Emily brought us this!" Jupe holds up an elaborate corkscrew. "And it's welcome, believe me---I'm not sure the one on my Swiss Army knife is quite the thing for a vintage like this."

Spence hands Garcia the can, and Jupe says, "I was just getting ready to put on a pot of coffee, would anyone else like a cup? Yes? Okay, and Penelope, I'll bring you a glass with some ice and lime in just a minute." 

Garcia beams at him. She's got a little crush on Jupiter, Spencer knows, and Jupe seems to have become friendlier with her, now that she's mum on the sore subject of Baby Fatso.

"This is really nice," Emily says in the pause that follows Jupe's departure. "It looks like you."

"How do you construe that?" he asks, perplexed.

"This should be good," Rossi says to no one in particular.

"Take that, for instance," Emily says, pointing to the rectangle centered between the two front windows. "Most of the time, when people put framed art in their living room, it's art---a landscape, or a still life or maybe something abstract. That's some kind of blueprint---"

"Actually, it's a patent diagram for a mimeograph machine," Spencer enlightens her. It's one of his favorite things in the room.

"Exactly!" Emily says, triumphant. "There's nothing abstract about it, it's not an interpretation of a sunset or generic flowers, it's informative! Just like you, my statistics-spouting friend." She's smiling as she says it, and Spence relaxes slightly.

"I love the color of the walls," he offers. They're a parchment color that's almost the same shade as the antique document. "It makes me think of old books."

"Thank you for helping to prove my point," Emily says dryly. "The furniture has clean, simple lines...it's all functional, it balances with the more traditional elements---and by the way, that persian carpet is gorgeous---but there's nothing fussy about any of it."

"That's nice, Emily," Dave interjects, "but Reid didn't pick out a stick of it. A little birdie told me it all magically appeared while we were helping Sheriff Mills with her body count."

"That's not true!" Spence says indignantly as Jupiter enters with a tray. "I bought that sofa new a couple years ago. Jupe had it recovered."

"It's true," Jupiter says, placing the tray on the cobbler's bench that serves as their coffee table. "I had to; I'm allergic to beige." He hands Garcia a glass with ice cubes and a lime wedge in it. "It was a good, basic sofa, but this blue holds its own with the blue in the rug and the print on the other chairs." 

"Is that lamp something you made?" Rossi asks, indicating Spence's other favorite piece, a column of gears and cogs topped by a simple shade. The base is a flywheel, and the whole thing is so heavy that Spence needs both hands to lift it. It rests on the piece between their two stuffed chairs, which has an end-table top and a magazine rack below.

Jupe nods. "I thought it was an interesting sculptural repurposing of its componants. The bad thing about it is, it's a bitch to dust."

Garcia flits over to take a closer look, and discovers another of Jupe's upgrades. The table has a power strip discretely affixed to its underside, and Jupe's Nook is plugged in and charging in the magazine rack below. The lamp is also plugged into it, so only one power cord trails away to the nearest outlet. She pronounces it brilliant.

Just then, Morgan arrives, lugging a sizable container of banana pudding like his mama used to make, without which, he declares, it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving. Jupe carries the pudding away to share the fridge with his trifle and returns to his preparations. 

With four guests already, Spence's anxiety that the party won't by successful is assuaged. He isn't sure why he was so worried; these are the people who've had his back for a long time. Of course, if he didn't have Jupiter, it would be a different story---he tries to imagine everyone trying to fit on the sofa; he'd probably be passing around cheese and crackers and trying to heat something by Stouffer's and serving it on paper plates---it doesn't bear thinking about.

JJ and her family complete the guest list. Henry hugs him with boyish enthusiasm. Will looks around the room and says, "A lot different from the first time I saw it. It was darn near empty. This is real homey." Jupe mentioned that he'd recruited JJ's husband to help him bring furniture in from the van. He's seen it when it was just the sofa and two mismatched chairs.

JJ gives him a hug as soon as Henry yields the space. "I like it," she says. Spence feels a warm glow. She's the ultimate authority on matters domestic. If JJ likes his home, he can relax.

"And, we brought pie!" Will announces. "Pecan praline, from the traditional LaMontagne family recipe!" 

"Wonderful," Spence says, and means it. Pecan pies are sweet, and his sweet tooth os legendary among the BAU team. "I'll put this with the rest of the desserts and it looks like it's time for a fresh pot of coffee, unless you'd rathere have something else?"

Coffee it is, and a modest glass of milk for Henry. Spence returns the coffee pot to the kitchen, where Jupe is industriously folding sour cream into the potatoes he's mashing.

"Another dessert?" Jupe says as he stows the pie on the table, which is getting crowded with carbs. "We're all going to wind up in sugar comas. Except you, Mr. Hummingbird metabolism. You'll probably he swinging from the chandelier."

"This was your idea, remember?" Spencer tells him as he changes the filter and measures out fresh coffee.

Jupiter looks up from what he's doing and grins fondly. "I've noticed you end up liking most of my ideas," he comments, "once you get past the whole, 'but I've never done that!' stage."

Spence feels the heat rising in his face. "I've certainly never tried entertaining a houseful of people before," he agrees, although compared to some of the other things Jupe has talked him into, this is pretty mild.

"Now aren't you glad I got that so-called gigantic dining room table and all those chairs?" Jupe asks playfully. "And just think, the holiday season is just starting!"

The prospect of future entertaining doesn't dismay him as much as it would have earlier. "There's a first time for everything," he responds. "Anything I should be doing while the coffee brews?"

"Could you take the carots off the stove? Left rear burner...just set the pot in the sink, I'll get them dished up shortly." Jupiter's the kind of cook who cleans up as he goes along, so the sink is empty and the hot pot has ample room to sit and cool. "Birdzilla should be ready to come on in another twenty minutes...I'll throw the rolls and green bean casserole in to bake while it's resting." He glances up at the wall clock. "I think we'll be sitting down right around four o'clock."

"I don't know how you do it." Spencer pours a small glass of milk, looks at the dregs in the container, and downs the last couple of swallows. The container goes neatly into the trash.

Jupe laughs briefly. "I've done it before. But, lest you think that I can do no wrong in the kitchen, let me tell you, the first time was a disaster! I was sixteen, and wound up having to cook because Aunt Matilda had just had her gallbladder out. She was still in bed, stoned on painkillers, so she couldn't tell me what to do. That poor bird was cremated...except where it was still frozen in the middle, complete with the half-thawed bag of giblets. We ended up having BLTs and green bean casserole with Eskimo pies for dessert." He chuckles at the memory.

"I could probably manage BLTs," Spence says, reaching for the coffee pot. "As long as the bacon was precooked." 

Back in the living room, Garcia and JJ have occupied the two chairs, and Henry is sprawled at their feet, drawing on a pad with colored pencils. The group on the sofa is discussing football, while the ladies' tete-a-tete seems to concern holiday plans.

He refills cups, gives them an ETA on dinner, and pulls the padded bench against the far wall over to join the holiday contingent. 

"Is there anything Jupiter wants for Christmas?" Garcia wants to know.

That's a tough one. The first thing Jupiter had done on his first visit was to get a Smithsonian membership, and he uses it often. So that's out. Spence has already gotten him several warm sweaters, because life in SoCal hasn't prepared Jupe for fall-going-on-winter in DC. He's a born DIY'er, but Spence has no idea what tools he may be lacking. "If you find out, let me know."

"Maybe theater or concert tickets?" JJ suggests. "Do you think he'd like that?"

That's why he adores JJ---she has a way of seeing into people's hearts better than any profiler he's ever known (and he knows the best). "That would be great," he agrees. "I know he's been active with his local theater company back in Rocky Beach. I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing a big, professional show."

Garcia already has her smartphone out, checking for performances. "How long is he here for?" she asks. "The Kennedy Center is doing Alice in Wonderland in January."

"That's still up in the air," Spence says with a sigh. "At least through New Year's, but by then I have a feeling he'll be ready to head back to sunny California."

"That gives us a while to put our heads together," JJ says easily. "Meanwhile, what about Hotch and Jack? This is the perfect chance to strategize for them, since they're not here. It would be nice if we could think of something they could do together."

Thinking of Jupiter's enthusiasm for museum going, Spence suggests, "Passes to the zoo, maybe?"

"That would be cool," Garcia agrees. "We could give the passes to Hotch and maybe get a stuffed panda for Jack."

"I think he's a little old for stuffed animals," JJ says gently, "although I know you think there's no such thing."

"Maybe a book," Spence contributes. "Something about different animals, so he'll be familiar with them when they go."

"Great. I think we're on to something." JJ looks pleased. "With passes, they can use them any time, so he won't have to worry about being out of town on a case."

Jupiter emerges from behind the dining room curtain. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present---dinner!"

He pulls back the drapery, dramatically revealing the elegant formal dining room. It's a deep blue with black and silver accents, the most obvious one being the chrome chandelier. Spencer remembers it looming over the Jones dining table in Rocky Beach, in a room much too small for it. Removing it had been one of Jupe's first acts after his aunt had passed. Here in the townhouse, with its ten-foot ceilings, its proportions are much better suited.

There's some milling around as everyone moves toward the table, looking around at the room, and especially at the buffet, where an array of food awaits.

The doorbell rings. Jack must be feeling better, is Spence's first thought. "I'll get that."

When he opens the door, there are no Hotchners; instead, it's the last person he expected to see today.

"Mom?" he whispers, stunned.

Diana Reid smiles back at him, and he wraps her in a joyful embrace.

"Surprise, darling!" she carols. "Your delightful friend Jupiter came to see me at Bennington a couple of months ago and invited me for a visit."

"Good to see you again, Diana," Jupiter says from the foyer. "Your timing is perfect, we were just sitting down for dinner. I'll just get that---" Spencer notices the suitcase for the first time. "Help your mam with her coat, Spence."

"Don't worry," she assures him as he hangs up her navy wool coat, "I discussed it with Dr. Ivins and he says I'm doing very well on my new meds. I feel better than I have in years."

"I'm so glad," he says, a lump in his throat. "That's definitely something to be thankful for."

After the surprise on his doorstep, Spence could have consumed BLTs with equanimity. The feast Jupiter has created is wonderful, but it's nothing compared with the happiness of having his mother there, healthy and vivacious.

Then something occurs to him. "Where are we going to put her?" he hisses at Jupiter in the kitchen as they're clearing plates from the table.

"In the guest room," Jupe replies, and nonchalantly heads back into the dining room before Spence can ask, What guest room?!

It doesn't take much persuasion on Jupiter's part to get the well-fed agents to retire to the "TV room" to watch football and digest. Meanwhile, Diana cheerfully rinses plates as Spence loads the dishwasher.

"What a lovely home you have," she tells him, rinsing out Henry's milk glass. "I could never really picture it from your letters. It's much nicer than I imagined. I can hardly wait to see the rest of it!"

"Sure," he agrees, carefully aligning the wineglasses for maximum spray. "I'll show you around as soon as we're finished here." And then, hopefully, he'll figure out where his guest room is. There's a chaise lounge in the library, but Jupe can't mean that, can he?

He starts the upstairs tour with the library, because it's his favorite room in the house. The blue-grey room is ringed with natural wood bookcases and the closet has been converted to a desk space, complete with whiteboard. There's an off-white linen chaise lounge resting on an an ivory area rug, which shows that Jupe didn't consider his own design aesthetic when creating Spence's sanctuary.

"This is amazing!" Diana praises, looking around.

"It really is. Jupe went through it and winnowed out all the duplicate books and moved them to the laundry room. I'd misplace things and buy another copy," he explains sheepishly, "and a lot of times, people give me copies of books I already own."

"I understand completely," his mother says, nodding. "When I sorted through all my books, because of course, I only have a limited amount of space, I had three copies of Slaughterhouse Five. I can't imagine why."

"If you're interested, I have Vonnegut's collected letters. Jupiter picked it up a few weeks ago, but I haven't read it yet."

They're swept way in a discussion of books. Spence is remembering some of the highlights of his childhood, when there's a tentative "Yoohoo!" from the stairs.

"In here, Garcia!"

She joins them, a pop of color in the otherwise neutral room. "Get out of town!" she says, looking around. "This is totally you! Serious books!"

Soence beams. "And the best part is, the books are sorted according to the Dewey decimal system! I can actually find what I'm looking for every time!"

"What else is up here?" Garcia wants to know. 

He shepherds them back into the hallway, and points out doors. "Bathroom. Stairs to the attic. Closet with vacuum and cleaning supplies. Bedroom...."

He leads the way into the room he and Jupe share. The walls are chocolate brown, the woodwork is cream. The door opens against the right-hand wall. To the left of the doorway is a black chest of drawers. The far left wall has a row of shuttered closet doors with orange knobs. The quilt on the king-sized bed on the far wall is also orange, although the linens are the color of a brown egg and the padded headboard matches the trim. On the right-hand wall, there's a picture in terra-cotta tones of a naked man vaulting over a charging bull. 

"A fresco from Crete." Diana identifies the source. "Theories vary as to whether bull-leaping was done as part of worship of the minotaur, or bull-god, or whether it was an athletic event."

Spencer knows he's blushing; he hadn't considered the erotic art when he'd offered the tour. 

There's still the room at the front of the house; he probably hasn't spent ten minutes total in there since he bought the place. Windows span most of the front wall, and it always seemed too big and too exposed. He leads the way.

"This is wonderful," Diana says, looking around. Garcia is even more enthusiastic.

Spence fixes a smile on his face as if he's familiar with this acid-trip of chrome yellow with white trim. It's a color only Jupiter would've picked, a searing shade that makes him want to don dark glasses, or better yet, turn off the light. 

There's an electric blue comforter on the bed. The accent pieces are black and white: a swirling OpArt poster, a zebra-print rug anchoring the bed, and an assymetric chair upholstered in over-sized houndstooth print. Nobody could possibly think this decor looks like him.

"This is awesome!" Garcia says. "I love that chair."

"I'm sure I'll be very comfortable here," his monther says, smiling.

"Great. How about I go get your suitcase--"

"Hey! Anybody up there ready for dessert?"

Anything to get out of this lemon merengue nightmare! "We'll be right down!" he calls back. Even better. Jupe can play bellhop.

The expression he eyes his partner with may be less than thrilled. Jupe seems amused. While Spencer was giving the tour, he'd cleared the food from the buffet and has replaced it with the array of desserts.

The pecan pie is every bit as good as Spence hoped, and the hit of sugar soothes his nerves. When Jupe quietly requests his assistance in putting together leftovers for their guests, Spence rises from the chair and heads into the kitchen with a sense of satiation. He's too full to fuss.

"What did you think?" Jupe asks as he starts filling clamshell boxes. Leave it to him to provide actual take-out containers.

"I think my eyes are still bleeding."

This earns a chortle from his partner. "It's only the one room," he points out. "And judging by the dust and cobwebs I found, you don't go in there much."

"That's true," he admits. "My mom and Garcia love it."

"Your mom's terrific."

"That was the best part of today. I never expected---" There's that lump in his throat again. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Jupe says, "for having dinner with me, one year, three months and eight days ago." 

In some ways, it feels like it just happened. In others, it feels as if he and Jupiter Jones have been together forever. Either way, Spencer Reid knows what he's most thankful for.


End file.
